


Took Me By Surprise

by withhishands



Series: West Point [3]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Ian loves him though, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Mickey is a jealous bastard, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-28
Updated: 2013-04-28
Packaged: 2017-12-09 20:12:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/777536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/withhishands/pseuds/withhishands
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ian surprises Mickey with a trip home from school.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Took Me By Surprise

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from the Queen song _Jealousy_.  
>  _Jealousy you got me somehow_  
>  You gave me no warning  
> Took me by surprise  
> Jealousy you led me on
> 
> This is technically part of my West Point series. I guess all you have to know for this installment is that Ian is away at school, Mickey is still in Chicago, they're involved in an open-relationship that drives Mickey nuts, and Mickey is using a woman named Carmen as a beard, even though he isn't sleeping with her.

Ian cancels Mickey's spring break trip. In a text. 

Mickey doesn't care. Carmen's out of town for the week anyway, and Mickey takes over her place. He may or may not drink himself to sleep Thursday and Friday. He's fine. 

His phone goes off, a reminder alarm for his flight. The flight he's no longer taking to New York. Mickey deletes the alarm. He locks and unlocks his phone about seven times before he opens up his text conversation with Ian. 

He scrolls through their seemingly endless texts. He stops on the message from two weeks ago. The one where Ian says he's too busy fucking someone else and doesn't want Mickey to visit for spring break. (Or maybe it says he's doing overtime on tactical training and doesn't think he'll have much energy left over for a worthwhile trip.) Mickey believes him.

Except he almost doesn't at all. He lets this ugly, jealous monster living inside of his chest get the best of him. A lot. He lets it imagine all the ways Ian is fucking other guys. All the ways Ian is falling in love with other guys. 

Mickey needs a drink. 

Mickey needs multiple drinks. 

He's beyond drunk and half-asleep on the couch in Carmen's living room with the television on. The front door opens and Mickey assumes it's Carmen. She's not due back until next Friday, but he knows how much she fights with her sisters. 

"Mick?" 

It's Ian. Fuck everything in Mickey's life right now. Of course it's Ian. His head fills him in on all the ways he's an idiot (like he didn't already know) for assuming the worst. For assuming Ian was lying and cheating. Okay, maybe it's not cheating when they have an open relationship. But, it's definitely lying! Ian lied and Mickey is right. 

"Uhh?" is the incredibly intelligent word falling out of Mickey's mouth as Ian drops his duffel on the floor. 

"Jesus," Ian says. "How drunk are you?"

"Not at all," Mickey slurs. 

Ian says, "Get up," and, "C'mon," and, "I'm not carrying your drunk ass to bed so start fucking moving."

Mickey moves. He stumbles, falls, leans, and definitely moves. The bed smells like unused sheets, but Ian is in bed with him quickly, wrapping his arms around Mickey, and filling Mickey's nose with his cologne and his sweat and-. 

Mickey falls asleep easily with his face pressed into Ian's neck. 

Ian wakes up well before Mickey if the smell of coffee is anything to go by. He's in bed, though. Mickey shoves his face into his pillow and twists into a stretch. He turns and moves until he's closer to Ian and then blinks open his eyes. 

Ian stares down at him with an eyebrow raised and an amused expression. Mickey wants to slap it off his face. Or kiss it off his face. Or just go back to sleep because it's too early for this. 

Ian hands him aspirin and offers up his own coffee for Mickey to swallow the pills down with. Mickey winces at the bitterness of the coffee, but swallows a few gulps nonetheless. He falls back into the pillow, pulling the comforter up to his neck. He shuffles under the covers until his nose is pressing into the side of Ian's stomach. He feels a rumble of a laugh from Ian's chest and chooses to ignore it.

He's hungover and betrayed and tired and if he wants to plaster himself to Ian's side, he's damn well going to.

When Mickey wakes up again, Ian is still with him in bed. The coffee smell has been replaced by a toast smell that has Mickey's stomach grumbling. He turns onto his back and stares up at Ian, who's in the same position he's been in since Mickey woke up the first time, sitting up with his back to the headboard. He's tapping away at his phone and half-smiling.

"Hungry?" he asks, glancing down at Mickey. He locks his phone, tosses it onto the bed between them, and reaches for something on the bedside table. "Sit up, lazyass."

Mickey groans, but sits up next to Ian, who passes him a plate with dry toast on it.

"Headache gone?"

Mickey nods with a mouthful of toast. He feels better overall. Still tired, but not hungover. He knows Ian made toast because he thought Mickey would have a more sensitive stomach after his spectacular drinking binge the night before, but he surprisingly feels okay. He could probably do with some eggs. Or at least butter and jam for his toast.

"Who else was in on it?" Mickey asks. He gives Ian a sideways glance and frowns at the stupid grin on Ian's face.

"Carmen," Ian says. Mickey rolls his eyes because he clearly knows that. "Mandy, your boss-"

"My boss?"

"You workin' this week, Mick?" Ian asks and Mickey really, really wants to wipe that smug look off of his face because no, Mickey isn't working this week.

"You're a douchebag," Mickey comments.

"You like me," Ian says. He presses his nose to Mickey's cheek before kissing his jaw.

Oh yeah. That's a thing they do. Mickey can't really wrap his head around the fact that he hasn't kissed Ian yet. Or mauled him. Or begged him to fuck him. Mickey is so done drinking.

Hungrily, Mickey turns his head to catch Ian's lips with his own.

"Nope." Ian pulls his head back and licks his lips. "You need to brush your teeth. And shower."

Mickey sighs and drops his head back to the headboard. He shoves the last bit of toast into his mouth before rolling himself off the bed. Mickey starts walking to the bathroom, turning around briefly to say, "You comin'?"

There's definitely something to be said for showering with someone else. Aside from Ian using shower gel to open him up and fuck him, Mickey is content to just run his hands along Ian's abdomen and marvel at the way he seems to get stronger and more solid everytime Mickey sees him. Noticing the difference is nice, but Mickey wishes he didn't. He wishes he could see Ian everyday and never notice that he's filling out because he sees him too much. And maybe he'll see a picture one day of them when they were young and he can then appreciate how much they've changed and grown without ever noticing.

Someday, maybe. When Ian is done at West Point, done with the army, maybe they can actually do this. Mickey lets his mind wander to all of the possibilities that he usually won't entertain.

"It's gettin' cold," Ian whispers against Mickey's neck. They're just standing under the spray, Ian's back taking the brunt of it, with their arms around each other. It's a sickeningly sweet situation, but Mickey doesn't think too hard on it.

Mickey drops his arms and slides the shower curtain aside. The water screeches off. He dries off quickly, leaving the towel in the bathroom. Ian is quick on his heels, though, and significantly less dry. His hands are hot on Mickey's hips, pulling him back and flush against Ian's chest. Mickey snaps his neck back, resting it on Ian's shoulder, letting Ian bite at his throat. Ian pushes him roughly onto the bed and manhandles him until Mickey's clutching a pillow and his ass is high in the air. He chokes on nothing when Ian shoves his face into Mickey's ass. This has happened before, but it isn't something Mickey's used to yet. It's a good thing that Mickey's laying down because he can't focus on anything but Ian's tongue darting in and out of his ass. 

Ian doesn't give him any notice that he's stopping. Mickey whines and nearly cries at the loss of contact. Ian's quick, though, and very rarely into teasing. He presses his cock into Mickey slowly, but steadily. There's somehow a difference between Ian pressing into him against the wall of the shower and this. Because Mickey craves this way more. He can't come even a little bit close to explaining how that's possible, but it's true. Ian's thrusts are long and hard and slow and exactly what Mickey dreams about. In a literal sense as well as a metaphorical sense. Mickey can't remember how many days he's woken up with his dick in his hand and a phantom ache of Ian's dick in his ass. 

The real thing is better. 

Ian lights up a cigarette after they've sufficiently basked in the afterglow from that fuck-out. Ian groans after he takes his first drag. Greedily, he sucks down a few more lungfuls before he passes it to Mickey. 

"Can't smoke at school," Ian comments. "Not good for running and stamina and shit apparently."

"I think your stamina's fine," Mickey says, laughing. Ian punches him in the shoulder and steals the cigarette back. 

They don't leave the bed that first day. Or really the second day. Ian leaves on Tuesday to visit his family. He tries to pressure Mickey into joining him but Mickey refuses. He knows he'll end up at the Gallagher house at some point this week for dinner and he's going to put if off until he absolutely has to go. 

Mandy comes over to eat Carmen's food and play video games while Mickey waits for Ian to come back. She convinces him into drinking and that turns into competitive drinking and that turns into taking a drink every time their designated ER character is on screen. Mickey shouldn't have picked Carter as his character because he's on the fucking screen every two minutes. He takes solace in Mandy picking Dr. Lewis because she's on screen just as much. 

After two episodes, Mickey is wonderfully drunk and can't stop laughing. They aren't even really playing anymore because they forget about playing the game until Carter is on screen for a long period of time and Mandy smacks him and yells at him to drink. 

Ian comes back and spends the longest time laughing at the equally drunk Mickey and Mandy. Ian doesn't fight Mickey when he crawls into Ian's lap, straddles him, and sucks a hickey into his neck. Mandy takes this as her cue to leave, vanishing into the back room. 

Ian runs his hands up and down Mickey's back while Mickey sucks and licks at Ian's neck. 

"I want you to stop fucking other people," Mickey says and okay, this is apparently all he can think about. Having Ian all to himself just reminds Mickey that they aren’t exclusive. And it gives him a stomach ache. He stops his worrying of Ian's neck and relaxes against Ian's chest, keeping his nose still tucked into the juncture of Ian's neck and shoulder. 

"What?" Ian asks. He pulls his head back and tries to look at Mickey. 

"Just," Mickey says. He lifts his head and stares at Ian. "Stop fucking other people."

Mickey knows he's drunk. He knows he shouldn't be talking at all because it feels like he's digging his own grave. If Ian laughs. If Ian shakes his head. If Ian says no, Mickey might lose it. Or the closest to losing it as someone as inebriated as Mickey is right now can. 

"Okay," Ian says quietly. 

Mickey doesn't smile, but it's not for lack of happiness. If anything, he's too happy. He's been working up the nerve to ask this of Ian for as long as he can remember. He stares at Ian in disbelief before kissing him solidly. 

Mickey falls asleep against Ian's chest. 

He very specifically doesn't talk about it again. At all. Ian doesn't bring it up, either. 

They spend Wednesday at a ball game, and Thursday with Lip. Friday they keep to themselves, wrapped up in bed together watching daytime television. Ian's flight leaves Sunday morning and that is just too close for Mickey to be okay with. 

"What about the seventh?" Ian asks. 

They're lying side by side on the bed, each with their phones out and calendar apps open. Mickey flips to the next month and taps on the seventh. 

"Work," Mickey says. "But I can fly out late." 

Ian nods and hums. He scrolls through his schedule for April. It's approximately one million times more complex than Mickey's. His is filled with rifle practices, study groups, training sessions, classes, lacrosse practices, and finally Mickey. 

"That works," Ian says, rapidly tapping out Mickey's name over the weekend of the seventh and then an earlier reminder to look at flights. 

Ian locks his phone quickly and rolls onto his back. Mickey rests his head on his folded arms and stares at Ian's chest rise and fall with each breath. 

What Mickey wouldn't give to keep Ian with him here forever. 

"I was serious about what I said the other night," Mickey says before his throat knots up. 

"That you used to dress up like a teenage mutant-" Ian says through snorts of laughter. 

"No," Mickey snaps, effectively cutting Ian off. "About, you know, not screwing around."

Ian turns on his side to look fully at Mickey just as he had the other night. His stare feels the same, heavy and meaningful. Ian's head jerks out a nod. 

"Yeah," Ian says. 

"Yeah?" Mickey repeats. He wants to hear Ian say the words. He wants to hear Ian say that he won't fuck anyone else. That he doesn't want to fuck anyone else. 

Ian only nods again and kisses Mickey. 

He'll take it.

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah? Sorry about this one. It's not my favorite, but. I can't like everything.
> 
> I'm sorry for any mistakes! I don't have a beta or anything, so. 
> 
> withhishands.tumblr.com


End file.
